


Tony is not as cool as cool as he thought he would be, but he's not too upset about it

by Nigmuff



Category: Iron Man (Comics), Marvel 616, The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Dad, Nail Polish, Squirrel Daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22349656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigmuff/pseuds/Nigmuff
Summary: Tony is determined to leave the hospital immediately. Doreen has other ideas.
Relationships: Doreen Green & Tony Stark
Comments: 12
Kudos: 34
Collections: You Gave Me A Stocking 2019





	Tony is not as cool as cool as he thought he would be, but he's not too upset about it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isozyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Тони не такой крутой, как ему казалось, но не слишком по этому поводу расстраивается](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663108) by [MouseGemini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MouseGemini/pseuds/MouseGemini)



> Hi, Iso! Happy holidays!!! You mentioned some time ago that you would be interested in a Tony&Doreen fic, and I was like, yay, an enbaler! You enabled me to write this, and I am very grateful. I wanted to make this canon compliant, but I have no idea what Tony is doing in 2015-2016. Probably complicated stuff. So here's some ambiguous timeline fluff. Hope you enjoy!  
> Credit to Mizzy for the amazing beta, as usual!

It occurs to Tony, for a split second before he pushes it aside, that he is way too used to waking up in hospitals.

He is not confused when he wakes up to the harsh melody of machines counting out his heartbeat, the sterile smell, and the scratchy sheets. He just mentally sighs, and thinks, this again.

The first thing he does is try to sit up, because that’s just how he’s coded. He no longer has the ability to think and talk to machines in binary coding, but he feels there’s still a part of him that was transformed that couldn’t change back. He thinks in binary much quicker than he used to. Some things are less about I want to do this, so much as I have to do this. Or maybe he was always like this, it’s hard to tell.

Of course, he pushes himself up too fast at first, and gets dizzy and nauseous. He rests for a minute, and then pushes himself up slowly this time, because he did learn. He swings his legs over the bed, and takes a moment to just breathe. He reaches over to yank the drip out, but finds himself too weak. He closes his eyes.

“Hi, Tony!!”

“Jesus Christ!” Tony startles badly, and clutches at his poor, weak heart. He looks up, and finds Squirrel Girl straddling the window, red hair glinting in the sun and smile brighter than the entire room. “Why are you sitting on the window?” Tony wheezes.

“I was patrolling as Squirrel Girl and I was in the area, so I thought I’d stop by! And you, oh my God, what are you doing sitting up?!”

“I’m getting out of here,” Tony says with as much conviction as he can manage considering his heart still hasn’t settled, and he feels like he’s going to collapse.

“Oh no you are not, youn… uh, not-so-young man!” In a flash, Doreen is next to Tony and bodily pushing him back onto the bed.

“Wait, wha- hey!” Tony protests, but Doreen completely ignores him. She pushes him back onto the bed, and soon enough, she’s tucking him in like he’s an unruly child.

“You sit right there, mister! You’re not going anywhere.”

Tony folds his arms. “Doreen, quit playing around. I don’t have time for this.”

“For what, not killing yourself?” Doreen scoffs. “Resting is, like, super important for healing quickly and getting stronger again!” She pokes him in the arm, and then turns to walk to the window. Tony rubs the place where Doreen poked him, and wonders whether he has a bruise there as well. _I suppose I won’t notice one more._

“Now, you can sit there and mope—” Doreen starts.

“I can _get out of here_ ,” Tony grouses.

“— _or_ ,” Doreen says in an overly loud voice. With a flourish, she twirls back around to face Tony, brandishing in her hands a large, clear plastic case with what looks like fifty nail polish bottles. “ _You can customize your nails!_ ”

Tony’s first thought, since he is a mostly sane human being, is _where in the fresh hell did she get that?!_ Then, because his mind is always going at terabyte speeds, he thinks of how she must have brought that from her house, carried it safely all through leaping and bounding through the tall buildings of New York, and scaled the wall of the hospital with it, and he thinks _**how** in the fresh hell did she get that?!_ This all only takes a few seconds, and after that, he can focus on the fact that she is clearly trying to distract him. Tony would never have thought that he would be beaten by a college student with a squirrel tail, but she’s called unbeatable for a reason, he supposes. He knows exactly the kind of intelligent, mature answer he has to make to that: Tony folds his arms harder, and pouts. Doreen continues brandishing the box, shaking it enticingly. She has a shit-eating grin on her face. The stare-off lasts about a minute. Finally—

“Do you have Iron Man colors?” Tony mutters.

Tony hates to admit weakness, but the truth is he’s never been able to say no to Doreen.

If it was possible, Doreen’s grin widens. “Tony,” she says, “I have _all the Iron Man colors_.”

* * *

Tony makes himself comfortable in an upright, sitting position, as Doreen rummages through her very large box of plenty.

“So I was thinking at first that the best choice here was _obviously_ Stark Industries’s limited edition Invincible Nail Polish—”

“Oh my God, we sell those?” Tony asks.

“Yeah! I mean, there’s lots of superhero merch out there, but this comes in a cute little Iron Man bottle! Look at him,” Doreen pulls out a bottle that, oh dear God, is shaped like the Iron Man helmet with a black stick coming out of his head. “Isn’t he the cutest thing _ever_?!”

“Kill me now,” Tony groans.

“But anyway,” Doreen continues, completely ignoring him, “the color is not that perfect Iron Man color that you’re looking for. Yes, I bought it entirely for the bottle and never used it. No, I do not have any regrets. So anyway, I searched far and wide and discovered that the best Iron Man nail polish is,” Doreen pulls a bottle out of her box with a flourish, “this one!”

She hands it over to Tony for inspection. He can’t help but snort at the name. “Rhapsody Red?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Why, would you prefer Red-ical Rockstar?” Doreen waggles her eyebrows. “Off With Her Red? An Affair in Red Square? A Little Guilt Under the Kilt?”

Tony gives in; relaxes back into the pillows and laughs. He hands the bottle back to her. “Fine, fine, I give in to your superior wisdom.”

“As well you should.” Doreen nods firmly. “Now, show me your hands.” 

Tony obediently hands over his right hand for Doreen’s inspection.

“Hmm… wow, you take better care of your hands than I expected. Way to self-care, Shellhead,” Doreen says, hitting him in the shoulder with the gentlest punch ever. 

“Glad they pass muster.”

“So now, I’m going to apply the base coat,” Doreen explains, holding up a bottle containing clear liquid. “It keeps the polish from staining your nails.”

Tony nods in understanding. Doreen gently picks up his hand and starts to apply the liquid with a brush. 

“By the way, Nancy should be passing by in a minute, is that okay?” Doreen asks, not taking her eyes off of the task.

“Nancy? Your roommate?” Tony has only met Nancy Whitehead once before, and has had a few interactions with her on social media. What he knows about her is that she has a cat she loves more than anything else in the world (Doreen is a close second), she loves knitting, and she has never—not once—been impressed with Tony or any of his bullshit. “Has she forgiven me for forgetting you when you went back to the past?”

“Oh yeah, she’s totally cool now. I mean, it’s kinda hard to blame you for forgetting me when the entire world did as well? But anyway, now is the fun part.”

Doreen grins evilly. She’s only finished Tony’s index and middle fingers, so he has no idea what she’s going on about.

“What..?”

“I heard you got a girlfriend!!” Doreen squeals.

Tony laughs. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously! Doing your friend’s nails means girl talk. In this case, literally talking about a girl. And you’re dating Janet Van Dyne, AKA The Wasp! I am of course super excited! I want all the details; is she nice? Does she treat you right? Does she know about that thing that you do when you say you’re fine, but you’re actually super-duper _not_?”

“I—that was one time—”

“Uhuh, sure, I’m totally going to believe you despite all evidence to the contrary.” Doreen’s hand is very steady, never wavering no matter what she says or where she looks. “And what were you going to tell the doctor when you wanted to get out of here? ”Hey, doctor, I _only_ have five cracked ribs, a concussion, and bruises all over my body, I’m _so fine_.“ Don’t tell me that’s not what you were going to say.”

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Tony grumbles.

Doreen opens his mouth to say something undoubtedly amusing and biting in equal measures, when the door opens.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” Nancy says, walking into the room and closing the door behind her. “I just punched a reporter.”

“Ohmygod, _no way!_ ” Doreen cries. “Pics or it didn’t happen!”

“You did _what_?!” Tony cries, because he is not the hip, cool adult he likes to think he is.

“Yes, way,” Nancy replies with a grin. She looks very pleased with herself, walking into the room so she can put her bag down on a chair on the other side. “It was very satisfying. No pictures, though.”

“Girl, I get the urge to punch reporters, like, all the time,” Doreen enthuses, “but going around punching normal people is kinda, you know. Not so good.”

“Yeah, superheroes punching people is bad,” Nancy agrees, “but that’s why you have me.” She sits down. “For all your base-line human punching needs.” She notices the bottle of Red Rhapsody sitting on the side table. “Ooh, red nail polish? Nice choice.”

“Thank you,” Tony says. “Wait, can we go back to the punching?”

“Yes, please let’s go back to the punching, it sounds very cool. Also, I’m done with your right hand, gimme your left,” Doreen makes grabby hands at his other hand until he relinquishes it.

“I’m more concerned with _why_ you decided to punch a reporter, and also how many lawyers are you going to need?”

Nancy waves off his concern. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Just some people can be so rude,” she says with feeling.

“What did they say?” Doreen asks, looking up momentarily from her task.

Nancy folds her arms. “Nothing important. Just made some stupid insinuations about Tony’s sobriety. All because he’s in the hospital, or because of the stocks, or something dumb like that.” There’s a heavy pause in which Tony has to take a deep, deliberate breath. 

Doreen stops putting on the base, puts the bottle down on the side, and stands up. She holds out her hand. “High-five, girl!”

Nancy grins, and they high five.

Tony clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry about—”

“Dude, don’t even mention it. It was a pleasure to sock that jerk right in his jerkish face.”

“Well. Thank you, then.”

“You’re welcome.” Nancy nods, and just like that, the conversation is over.

“Okay, the base coat is finished. Who’s ready for the main event?!”

“Ooh, time for red?” Nancy asks excitedly.

“I want this stuff to dry so I can continue _so badly_.”

“Patience is a virtue, Green. Now, you,” Nancy points at Tony. Tony is honestly kind of intimidated.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been on kind of a knitting binge, and I know you hate needles and hospitals and rest and stuff—”

“Hey!”

“So I made you a wrist cover!” Nancy pulls out of her bag what is, essentially, a fingerless glove. It’s red. “So you don’t have to see the needles sticking out of your hand.”

Tony stares at it. “You’re kidding, right? You realize I am not six years old?”

“Tony, I think six-year-olds take better care of themselves,” Doreen jokes. “But come on, it’ll go with your nail polish!”

“I am not putting on a glove just so it’ll go with my nails.”

“Really? Cause I do.”

“And anyway,” Nancy adds, “it’s not _just_ to go with your nails. It’s for emotional comfort!” She stands up and, ignoring Tony’s protests, slips the cover over his hand, careful not to jostle the needle.

“And now it’s time for polish!” 

Tony sighs. He never stood a chance anyway.


End file.
